


Sleep Little Sun

by Blue Rose (Grovehove), Grovehove



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternative Universe - Triads, Gen, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Fic, Kid Peter Parker, Multi, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grovehove/pseuds/Blue%20Rose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grovehove/pseuds/Grovehove
Summary: The Captain held up his hand and no-one moved, no-one breathed. The Lady Commander felt the adrenaline rush through her body and her grip tightened on her perfectly balanced weapon.She saw her warriors flow into their battle stance with nary a sound and pride flooded after the adrenaline. There was a reason these were the best of her soldiers. That they were the Queen’s Avengers.The noise resumed and she saw the Captain swing his head towards her, eyebrows raised in silent bafflement. It took a few seconds for her to recognise what it was, she must have been wearier than she realised.Someone was singing, soft and sweet.  It echoed strangely from all around them.A lullaby. Someone was singing a lullaby in this burnt out husk of a town
Relationships: Howard Stark/Maria Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, May Parker/Ana Jarvis/Edwin Jarvis, Peggy Carter/Howard Stark, Peggy Carter/Howard Stark/Maria Stark, Peggy Carter/Maria Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 34
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter 1

The fighting had lasted for three long days. Finally a muted silence spread through the remains of the deserted small town like a creeping sea mist, dispelling the relentless waves of sound that had heralded the battlefield.

The clash of weapons, guttural roars of irrational adrenaline fuelled rage, screams of the wounded and dying, thundering hooves of the war horses and the steady thud of pack animals pulling the heavy artillery, had all been allowed to fall quiet, fading away with the remains of the fleeing enemy.  
But there was no true peace yet. The victorious warriors of SHIELD could not afford to rest without making sure that this decimated town was a safe place to camp. Then they had to tend to their wounded, bury their dead and finally still their weary bodies to gather the strength to continue to the next battlefield in this seeming never-ending war.

Lady Commander Carter strode through the main thoroughfare of the small town after the battle. Hazy smoke and fine ash littered the burnt out remains of the buildings. The bitter tang would linger until those left alive could wash it away with copious drafts of watered down ale.  
The Commander patrolled with her elite guards in the dusk. She allowed the Captain to take point in the silence of the town. They had nearly cleared it and found no-one. The town’s people had been warned to leave upon her army’s arrival four days past but the patrols would be alert for their presence whilst they searched for stragglers from the defeated Hydra forces.

SHIELD, the legendary army of the great Queen of Cerrara, Her Merciful Majesty Maria d’Carbonell, had fought Hydra too long for her experienced warriors to trust the silence and seeming safety of a deserted post battle town. Hydra could be hiding and biding their time for one last act of defiant revenge against the victorious SHIELD army, more specifically against the Lady Carter, Triad Second Consort and Commander of the Queen’s Army and her husband the Lord Stark, Triad First Consort and Weapons Master.  
  
Thus the Lady Commander’s personal guard and strike team, known and feared as the Queen's Avengers, wove silently through the town, weapons at the ready, hyper-vigilant after the carnage they had endured. They would not relax until they knew this abandoned ruined settlement was empty of any threat.  
The Lady Commander noted the particular shadow flanking her to the left. A familiar but almost comforting sight. Not that she would admit that in words, ever. She hid her smile.  
  
The Captain was utterly predictable with his stubborn determination to protect his Commander. Though sometimes the whimsical thought that the Winter Soldier was there to provide protection for the poor fools who annoyed her, tickled her fancy. Most especially when she saw his usually impassive face almost twitch with the effort to keep his lips still during one of her more edifying and loud corrections on the behaviour of one of said fools.  
  
She did not rant despite what her foolish consorts thought. When there had been peace in their world, Howard would lounge there in front of her, that silly moustache twitching with amusement until she was distracted from her righteous indignation with the pressing need to drag him off to their chambers. Her Queen would tilt her head, her eyes would brighten until they gleamed with rich satisfaction, and then she would stalk her Lady Commander through the halls of the Royal Court with predatory grace. It had been a long time since the Lady Commander had been at the Tower to encourage such behaviour.   
  
No-one dared to voice any objections to the fact that the Lady Commander herself strode with them. The first time the Captain had made that mistake, he had spent the following seven days running the camp perimeter in full gear, morning, noon and evening.

They were all garbed in the legendary masks, so deeply red that they seemed to absorb the light around them. No one was allowed to see the faces of the elite Queen’s Avengers on the battlefield. And until the town was cleared and safe, they were still on the battlefield.   
Their equally famous red and gold cloaks were turned inwards so that the black lining faded into the evening shadows as they quartered the area with hyper-aware vigilance.  
  
The silence weighed on them heavily but their long day was nearly over. They had reached the western outskirts of the town where only the ruins of an ancient temple still stood. The lingering hint of lavender growing wild in what would once have been the temple’s small herb garden unconsciously eased tension from sword arms and lowered taught shoulders.  
  
“Stay sharp Avengers” the Captain hissed, knowing all too well the dangers of relaxing their vigilance when it appeared that all was safe. At his nod, the Archer took to the trees lining the small grove whilst the rest of the squad spread out in a well-practised and familiar move, although to the Lady Commander’s wry exasperation, her personal shadow remained where he was.

She would need to have words again with the Captain about his over protective attitude but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, all her warriors came to a sudden halt, tense and ready as the silence was broken by an unexpected soft noise.  
The Captain held up his hand and no-one moved, no-one breathed. The Lady Commander felt the adrenaline rush through her body and her grip tightened on her perfectly balanced weapon. The sword gifted to her by her Queen and specially created for her by the First Consort, her two beloved soulmates.  
  
She saw her warriors flow into their battle stance with nary a sound and pride flooded after the adrenaline. There was a reason these were the best of her soldiers. That they were the Queen’s Avengers.  
The noise resumed and she saw the Captain swing his head towards her, eyebrows raised in silent bafflement. It took a few seconds for her to recognise what it was, she must have been wearier than she realised.  
  
Someone was singing, soft and sweet. It echoed strangely from all around them.  
  
She saw how the Captain tilted his head to try to identify where it was coming from, until her bodyguard Winter stepped forward and pointed silently at the base of the temple ruins. He slipped smoothly back into the shadows close to her once he was sure that the Captain had understood.  
The Lady Commander took in everything, her mind running through scenarios and making plans but there was a part of her brain that was dedicated to that soft sound. It was hauntingly familiar, as if it came to her from the depths of time.  
  
Time. Time. The splinters of a buried memory headed towards her beating heart with the deadly casting precision of the warrior mages of the   
Kamar-taj.   
By the Three, she recognised that sound. Her pulse pounded in her veins. She recognised that sound, the tune, and those sweet loving words.  
For the first time in years her eyes were wet with unexpected unshed tears. She was truly grateful for the encroaching darkness surrounding them. The Lady Commander never allowed weakness in front of her warriors. She never showed weakness at all if she could help it. She drew a shallow breath, using her training and experience to calm herself.  
  
A lullaby. Someone was singing a lullaby in this burnt out husk of a town.  
  
But not just any lullaby. Someone was singing “Sleep little Sun”. That simple old tune which was breaking her heart all over again and forcing luminous, agonising memories to the front of her brain.  
Maria had been so beautiful when she sang that sweet tune, in her tired husky voice to their perfect new-born baby. The song had become a favourite for the child, for them all, it had soothed and settled the child to hear it and it had soothed and settled the parents to sing it. The baby had even enjoyed listening to Howard’s off key rumbly tenor.

That lullaby instantly took her back to the place and time when they had all been so happy together, when the future had looked bright and the only things they had to worry over was who would get to hold their son first. Not even Maria’s status as their beloved Queen exempted her from the soulmate squabble over their baby boy. He was so utterly wondrous and they had adored him at first sight. The tiny sun they had revolved around like star struck moons, with joy and excitement.  
  
Sixteen years ago. That memory was sixteen years old. Their beautiful first born would have been sixteen now, declared a man, as they would have celebrated his rite of adulthood ceremony on the day of his birth. And their second wee one, the joyous addition to their little family, the babe she had carried for her Soulmates because Maria’s poor body would carry no more after Antonio. Her wee soul would have been six now. If the child had lived, if either of them had lived.  
Because five years ago their lives had descended into a cursed cruel hell when the land of Cerrara had been betrayed by soulless traitors and Hydra had invaded.  
Their people had fought so bravely but the cost had been too high. The Royal Triad had lost their children at the final battle even as the victory cries were ringing through the city, as the Invaders fled ignominiously from determined Cerrarian warriors and vengeful citizens.

May the soul of that foul Betrayer Stane rot for eternity under the wrath of the blessed Tri-Souls, of the Goddess and her husbands, the Mage and the Wanderer. For he had murdered the young heirs in cold-blood, turning to laugh mockingly at the Triad’s horrified faces when he threw first the children and then himself from the battlements into the retreating Hydra forces below.

They had all heard Antonio scream in terror as they plummeted to their deaths. Their hearts had been ripped from their bodies at that sound. It was the mercy of the Goddess that the babe would have been too small to understand what was happening.

The light had gone from the Queen’s eyes that day and cracks had formed in their Triad. The grief and rage flooded through their bond until the only relief was to mute their link.  
  
Maria had stayed to govern Cerrara whilst hunting for any remaining traitors, a pale cold imitation of the vibrant woman who had wooed and won her triad Lord and Lady.

Peggy’s broken heart had sought ease in rage and vengeance and the permission of her Queen to form SHIELD to wipe the child killers from the very earth that they tainted with their existence.

Howard their husband subsumed his grief by advancing the technology of war and creating weapons which were the envy of the world, all the while travelling between the pair of them because neither would relent in their efforts to root out the evil of Hydra and send it to hell to join the Betrayer’s black shrivelled soul.  
  
Why was she hearing the song now, was she going mad? But it wasn’t Maria’s beloved voice singing so sweetly, it was the voice of a young lad. Though exhaustion and fear were layered through the soft voice, it was the love and devotion that rang true through the song which so forcefully reminded her of long ago happier days.  
  
Peggy Carter might have been caught unawares by that old song but she was the Lady Commander of SHIELD and the Queen’s Avengers. There were questions to be answered. They were near a quarter of a year’s ride from Cerrara, the land the Carbonell’s had ruled for centuries. So why was there an old Cerrarian lullaby being sung word perfectly in a Hydra infested region?  
  
Logically there would be refugees from all parts of their war torn world but Maria had been determined to make Cerrara as safe as possible after the invasion. She had vowed to the Goddess herself to do her utmost to ensure that no more children in Cerrara would die because of the War.  
SHIELD did not allow families to follow the army. Civilian adults were allowed to provide their goods and services to the travelling army after careful vetting but children were not allowed near. At least in that one way Peggy could aid her Queen and keep other people’s children safe from the war, even though she couldn’t protect or save her own.

The Lady Commander could unfortunately find no legitimate reason for a Cerrarian, young or not, to be in this war torn area, unless they were part of the traitorous group who had betrayed their birth land. All new recruits to the army had to serve the requisite six weeks at the various training camps dotted throughout Cerrara and the lands of their allies. They only made it to their cohort in the Army when they could at least hold a weapon without dropping it or slicing off a finger.  
  
But that lullaby sung so gently with such care and love tugged at her heart. That sweet voice, brought up bitter and beloved memories of their Antonio. Their darling vibrant Antonio. Always smiling. Always talking. Always curious because he was fascinated with everything and everyone around him. All that intensity had focused on his new sibling. He had utterly adored the babe. The last bitter soul rending memory of his darling face was of his desperation to protect the little one from that Betrayer. The Lady Commander would take that memory with her when she faced the Goddess for her soul’s judgement.

The Lady Commander straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. She refused to give into weak tears. The children had both been dead for five years.

Howard went been back to the Tower regularly to visit Maria but Peggy avoided it. Even now she saw her children falling from the battlements in her dreams. She could face hordes of screaming evil Hydra scum with nary a qualm but that marble and mortar monument to the murder of her children was beyond her courage.  
  
When the souls bonds were finally stretched too far and the royal triad needed to come together for succour, Maria, her Queen, her beloved, would order her Lady Commander to the borders of their Land and the three would sate themselves with pain, fury, passion and finally utter adoration in the Royal tent under the leafy canopy of the huge forests of the ancestral lands of the Stark family.

Still the haunting singing persisted, the dulcet Cerrarian voice piercing her heart as sharply as a true Wakandan blade. She gave into her instincts. The Lady Commander would reserve judgement this once. The lad would be fed and safe tonight in honour of those beloved memories. Then he would be interrogated in the morning.  
She would task her Intelligence Officer Ranger Coulson with discerning the lad’s guilt or innocence. The Ranger was unassuming enough not to frighten the boy but he would get to the truth. Winter and her best scout Widow would likely be listening in but there was no need to terrify the boy into incoherence if he had to face them instead. Time enough for that if his guilt was proven.

As long as he was true to his Queen and country, she would even allow him to travel with them until they reached their main base and he could be put to work with the support staff if he didn’t want to be a soldier or at least granted safe passage back to Cerrara.  
“Widow, take the Archer and find me the lad who is singing. Bring him back to the Command tent”  
  
The redhead nodded impassively and she slipped away followed by the Archer, whose eyes had sharpened with the focus of a bird of prey.  
Carter watched them go and turned to face the rest of her officers. She could feel the intense assessing gaze from her personal shadow, and the puzzled frown of her stalwart blonde blue-eyed Captain that was sure to be on his handsome face behind the mask.   
She ignored them both.  
  
Ranger Coulson was the only one who did not show any confusion. There was a knowing look in his eyes. He was her best intelligence officer and if he wasn’t aware of her family’s history then he shouldn’t have the job.  
She refused to confirm anything though, just shot him a look of haughty indifference, hiding the small spark of her usual amusement at his long suffering scowl.  
She took one last lingering glance at the shadowed temple ruins and then straightened her cloak as she raised her chin and ordered briskly:  
  
“I want the rest of the area cleared now Avengers and allocate the perimeter guards. Get a move on, we’ve all still got to have our mandatory check with Healer Banner before we can eat. We don’t want to make him angry. Nobody likes it when he’s angry.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony held tightly onto Peter. The little boy had finally fallen into an uneasy doze. His dark curls were plastered to his head and his face was too pale. Again the worrying thought that the kid was too small and thin flashed through Tony’s ever chattering mind. He only wanted to keep his baby brother safe. That’s all he wanted now.

Tony held tightly onto Peter. The little boy had finally fallen into an uneasy doze. His dark curls were plastered to his head with sweat and his face was too pale. Again the worrying thought that the kid was too small and thin flashed through Tony’s ever chattering mind. He only wanted to keep his baby brother safe. That’s all he wanted now. That Petey lived to manhood was his overriding ambition and had his utter dedication.  
The terrifying noises of the vicious battle had kept the pair of them trembling and motionless in the long forgotten cellar of the ruins of the old temple until exhaustion had taken it's toll on the little boy.

Made of the ancient stone from the surrounding bleak mountains, dedicated to the old worship of the sorcerer supreme, the temple had survived for countless years, and even the weapons of modern warfare could not dent the embedded protective wards.  
  
Tony had learnt long ago to take advantage of anything that could keep the pair of them safe even if he didn’t truly believe in the magic of the mages. His parents had been practical people and they had instilled the value of adaptability in their two children.  
  
May, kind, caring and funny, had ruthlessly taught him everything she knew about health and healing. Darling Ana had been the loving heart of their small family and had been teaching her boys to feed themselves with whatever was to hand. Jarvis, wise, honourable and fair had taught him how to recognise duplicity and how to deal with it. He would give anything to have them back again.  
  
But he ruthlessly suppressed those memories because both his head and his heart ached when he thought of them. They were gone now. Only Peter left and he would guard him like the priceless treasure he was.  
Instead he focused on what he had learnt. He had been taught from birth to question everything so how had he been so stupid to allow this to happen.  
  
He had seen the obvious military horse tracks before he and Peter had set foot in the town, but they had both been exhausted and nearly out of food. Tony could normally sweet talk an inn-keeper or store owner, even a local farmer into a few days’ work in exchange for food and even a little coin.

But it had been a hard winter, the stupid war was affecting more and more of the land they travelled, lack of food, lack of shelter, more and more displaced wandering souls so that those lucky enough to still have somewhere to call their home were getting wary and even tired of showing compassion to those without.

Younger refugees were never turned away empty handed, despite the growing fear and suspicion, children were nearly always offered something which would appease the conscience of most and Tony exploited that with ruthless dedication.  
  
He should have gone through his adulthood ceremony the summer season past if only they had still been living in the land of their birth. Bright memories of sweet Ana’s teasing about the feast they would host, as May chuckled and Jarvis smiled with pride were pushed forcibly from his mind.   
  
Now though, they couldn’t risk the ceremony. Too many war drunk recruiters for any of the stupid armies involved in this stupid conflict had no remorse about taking those stupid enough to advertise their new adulthood. He would be damned before he was taken away from his brother.   
  
So he kept his face clean shaven, brown eyes wide and soft, naturally curly hair long and dishevelled and allowed his smaller stature to work in their favour. It helped that most of the time he felt like a kid out of his depth not just looked like one. Tony knew he looked years younger than his true age. But he would do anything to keep his little brother safe.

This little town had become a desperate necessity after they had barely escaped those thrice damned bandits with their lives.

Raza, the leader of the Ten Rings had separated the children from the adults when they had raided the Farming Commune during the early summer, the unlucky place where he and Peter had bargained for a few days’ work and food.

The bandits had taken one look at Tony, and dragged him from the younger children. His heart felt like it was dying in his chest, Peter would be terrified but Tony had taught his little brother the escape game from the first time that Peter has learned to walk. They had practised and practised and planned and schemed until they were both sure that even if they were forced apart, they had plans to get back together again and his little spider knew that they had to bide their time to get away.   
  
Tony didn’t think he had been identified as an adult when the guards had torn away from his brother. The lewd remarks they made in their own tongue made his stomach churn, but he kept it hidden, pretending he didn’t understand. Peter was his priority but Tony needed to stay alive in order to keep his baby brother safe.

Tony was incredibly quick at picking up different languages. Ana had encouraged them both, picking a different language to speak weekly until May would chase them out of the house with a broom. His brain was always assessing, studying and making connections. But he was just as quick to hide it. Better to be underestimated than to be thought a threat.

He had followed his orders and waited for his chance especially when he saw what happened to a woman soldier who had tried to fight the bandits. There hadn’t been enough of her left to bury and they had left those remains where the rest of the adult prisoners could see the results of her defiance as Raza liked to remind them aloud with a cruel smirk.

Tony had felt the man’s eyes study him with speculation every so often which made him shudder and lay awake in the darkness terrified of going to sleep when his rational mind knew that the cover of darkness would not matter to Raza if he decided to come for Tony.  
He had lived on his nerves until a slight older guy named Ho Yinsen had diverted Raza’s attention and energy.  
  
For days he had noticed the other man watching him with a blank expression on his face until one day Yinsen had stopped him when he was on the way back from the pens where they kept the young children. Tony had stiffened with barely concealed fear because he was there without permission but Yinsen had just nodded at the pens with an eyebrow raised. Tony never knew what made him do it but he took a chance "My little brother" he murmured. Yinsen had just nodded and wandered off again. That night, Yinsen had moved his bedroll next to Tony. The next day Yinsen had ensured Raza had little time to think of the young Cerrarian.  
  
Tony flinched every time he saw Yinsen’s bruised face. But he ruthlessly fought down the urge to rebel, remembering Jarvis's lessons on survival, kept his head together and eyes downcast, and did as he was bid with no complaint until he became almost invisible to the guards. A vague memory of a woman’s voice saying that no one ever noticed the people that served them gave him the confidence to play his role. He refused to remember where that voice came from.

He was so helpful and obedient that no part of the camp was off limits, he was even allowed to clean Raza’s quarters and take the leader and his elite personal guards their meals. The bandits took no notice of him except for a few rough cuffs to the head or shoves to the ground when they were bored. It worked out exactly the way Tony needed. He would surreptitiously leave the dark eyed Jinsen the best pieces of meat he could filch from the Bandits food rations. He was never stupid enough to keep them for himself. Too risky, especially since he got to eat their damn left overs anyway.

Tony ignored the barbed jibes and scorn of the other prisoners at this complicity. He didn’t allow himself to care what they called him or thought of him. It wasn’t as if any of them were going to save him or his baby brother. Unlike Yinsen. His sole reason for living at that point was saving his brother and Yinsen. Nothing else was more important and he would do anything to make sure that happened.

It was when he heard two of the Bandits discussing a caravan leaving at the end of the week to take the young children to be sold in the slave pits of the Chitauri Raiders that he knew he had no more time to mess about with his escape plan.

Two days later, all the flammable material in their cave hideout was set alight one after the other like falling dominoes, and nearly all of the bandits including Raza were caught in the back-draught.  
  
The slaves scattered in all directions. Tony fled around a corner and found Jinsen standing over the still body of one of the bandits, removing a bloody sword from his neck. As Yinsen moved back towards the burning caves, Tony tried to drag him away “We’ve got to go, come on, move with me, we’ve got a plan, and we’re going to stick to it” but the older lad smiled at him sadly, his free hand gently stroked the boy’s cheek for just a moment. “This was always the plan Tony.”  
  
“No, no, what about your family?” Tony argued desperately, knowing the tears in his eyes had nothing to do with the choking acrid smoke that was filling the area.

“My family is dead. Raza and his people ensured that. I will stop the bandits from following you as long as possible, then I will join my loved ones. Now go. Get the little one. Don’t waste your life and his.”

The words of an old blessing left his lips as he took one last look and watched Yinsen walk calmly away “Traveller, may the Wanderer find you, may the Warrior protect you and may the Goddess love you, as you journey home.” Tony dashed the tears from his eyes and forced himself forward. There was hardly any time left. He had to get to his brother.  
  
Tony fought his way through the panicking mob to the children’s enclosure, beat off the locks with a rock, and screamed at the other children to run whilst he grabbed Peter.

The sound of screams and running feet carried through the acrid dry air for miles as they fled.

When Peter was too exhausted to run any more, Tony simply tied the little boy to his own back with a belt and continued for miles. He didn’t stop to rest until he could no longer see the smoke from the mountains. Peter had fallen into an exhausted doze hours earlier.

Unfortunately they had been less than successful at finding succour and aid because the Ten Rings had decimated the area for miles around. One small stream had kept them from death by dehydration, they had soaked their clothes to carry the liquid because they had nothing else with them but they had continued until the outskirts of a small town.

So of course Tony with his luck, had brought them to a battle zone. But really they could go no further, even when the SHIELD scouts had raced through warning everyone to leave. Peter was exhausted, he was exhausted. They needed to eat and rest. They needed to be safe for a few hours so that they could gather the strength to carry on and get away from the brutal warmongers. 

Tony had nearly cried with relief when he had spotted the old ruined temple on the outskirts of the deserted town. He had offered heartfelt thanks to the Triad and not being stupid, every other god and goddess he could remember for revealing the sanctuary. He had left Peter tucked in to the shelter of an alcove hidden by the largest wild lavender bush he had ever seen whilst he darted back into the bustling confusion of terrified towns folk packing their carts to leave. One more darting young 'un was put to work, and he was ignored as he helpfully strapped babes into carts, moved precious possessions and clothes next to the old and frail, and carried water jugs and travelling rations where needed. He took two water jugs, a weeks worth of dried meat and two loaves, wrapped in a tattered old shawl, as his unofficial payment back to the Temple.   
  
Tony bowed his head politely before entering. He knew if he tried to kneel as was traditional then he would never get up again. The Sorcerer Supreme had always been one of the more pragmatic deities so Tony didn’t think he would take offence.  
He whispered the words of his prayer. “My Lord, I mean no disrespect nor harm to your holy house. I beg safe sanctuary for my little brother and myself. I have no offering but the true gratitude of my heart at this time but I swear on my love from my brother that if I ever have power and wealth I will personally build and dedicate a Sanctum to your worship. “

He paused unwilling to admit the unexpected chill that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He drew a deep breath and then Tony smiled down at his exhausted little brother. “The Sorcerer Supreme has not struck me down yet my spiderling, I will take that as his permission to enter.” He refused to acknowledge the feeling of a teasing tug at the curls at his nape. He had definitely imagined it. Definitely.  
  
Tony had hidden himself and Peter in the still intact cold stone cellars of the ancient sacred place. The dusty faded runes on the steps to the barely intact entrance revealed the deity. It belonged to the old religion. Fallen into disrepair when the Priest Mages had retreated to the mountainous stronghold of Kamar-Taj centuries before. Yet still the ruins were time and weather decayed rather than any deliberate destruction on the behalf of the surrounding town’s folk. They might not worship the Sorcerer Supreme any more but they were superstitious enough not to try to bring down that Being’s wrath by damaging its property.

Tony tried to settle his little brother in his lap in the cool darkness of the cellars but Peter had a low grade fever that Tony had nothing to combat. They were hungry and exhausted but they should be safe enough in the depths of the temple to avoid detection and harm. Tony didn’t know how long they had been there, the darkness was complete and the sounds of the battle had long died away. Peter was moaning in his fevered sleep.

Tony gathered him closer in his arms trying to comfort him, but the child was getting more distraught. 

“Come on little spider, you’re safe now. We are safe. Tony’s got you. Just rest for me baby, you need to rest to get better” Tony whisper pleaded as the little one’s moans became louder and the hot tears dripped down that little face onto Tony’s neck. He held him tucked against his chest, listening to his heart beat, whilst the soft whimpers skimmed his ears, Peter’s forehead was burning like a brand as he burrowed into his big brother’s neck.

He was pretty sure no one was in the temple ruins above them, so comforting his brother would go unheard. When the little one was this upset only Tony’s singing would get him to settle. Guilt and shame stabbed Tony in the gut. His poor little bug had been all alone in the slavers compound. Tony knew that the little one would have been terrified even though he had smiled so bravely, his chin up, shoulders back and nodded at Tony when they had been separated. Why hadn’t he got them out sooner? Why was he such a useless brother?

Tony pulled the small boy close and tucked him more comfortably between his neck and his shoulder. The feel of the curls tickling his skin was a familiar comfort to the pair of them and the tension in his own shoulders gradually eased. He and Petey were together again. That was the most important part. He could handle anything to make sure it stayed that way.  
  
The vibration from his throat would also sooth the little boy as he began to softly sing. "Sleep little sun" would remind them both of being loved and being safe. Darling Ana used to sing it to them both, laughing at Tony's protests that he was too old for lullabies. He wished desperately that she was here now to sing it instead. He wished desperately for May's healing touch and he wished desperately for Jarvis to keep them safe. But the only comfort he could offer his baby brother and himself was the sound of that old familiar song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> There is implied child abuse because young children are kept in pens waiting to be sold as slaves.  
> Tony is not underage, he just uses his youthful looks to his advantage, though he hasn't been officially declared an adult yet.  
> Ho Yinsen suffers in Tony's place. He deliberately takes attention away from Tony to save him from Raza.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archer didn’t need his excellent eyesight, even in this black as pitch cellar, to locate the singer. The rancid smell of stale sweat, hunger and barely contained fear was rank enough for him to pinpoint the position of the Songbird accurately. Despite the heavy darkness he could have shot an arrow directly into the throat that made the music

Tony’s mind wandered as he sang. The words were calming and he knew them by heart. He rocked the little boy. By the Three, they couldn’t carry on like this. Lurching from one disaster to another. He knew there was a way that he could give Peter a better life, where his little brother was safe, happy and healthy. Tony had a plan. He had been working on it for a long time. Originally it had been designed to help out the whole family. Now it was only the two of them, it made things harder but it was the only way he could think of to take care of his baby brother.   
  
Everyone abandoned them. Everyone. Even Jarvis, Ana and May had died and left them alone. They had promised Tony, they had promised damn them, that they would all be safe together.   
Tony was still so angry with the three of them for dying because they had promised. He knew that the anger was a flimsy cover for the pain of grief that made him want to scream and never stop but he couldn’t afford the time to give into that grief. Jarvis, May and Ana had saved them, had loved them and protected them. They didn’t have the right to die and leave them. The pain was a burning blue flame in his chest but he forced himself to hide it because he had to look after his brother.

Tony had a plan. He had discussed it in the evenings with Jarvis when they were playing Scacchi before it was time to sleep.   
  
Tony and Peter were heading towards Manhattan. An island city that was far away from the war where he could raise his brother and make his fortune. Because he would make his fortune. He had no doubt about it.   
He knew he was clever and he was really good with his hands. He could make pretty much anything and definitely find a way to improve it.   
  
He only needed to find someone to give him a chance and he would make them very rich. He needed the power and wealth because one day, when Peter was safe, Tony would make them all suffer, all the betrayers, all of them. He would hunt them down and give them the same mercy they had bestowed on his little brother and his parents. None.

But his first priority had to be Peter. He would do anything, anything to keep the boy safe. He could even hide that grief and anger so that he could focus on his baby brother. Nothing was going to stop Tony from protecting Peter not even his own emotions.

In the utter darkness of the cellar, Tony didn’t see the long disused chutes leading up to the ground. They had been used to unload the various commodities stored in the cellar. They might have fallen through and been partially filled in but sound still escaped upwards.

He was so tired and hungry and scared for his little brother. Was it so bad just to want some peace, just for a little while? He didn’t stop singing, it soothed them both. He kept his eyes closed, trying to relax. There was nothing to see in the darkness anyway. He was so focused on his little brother that he didn’t hear the slight sounds of footsteps on the stone stairs leading downwards to the cellar room.   
  
There was no door to hide behind, no wood left to even hang from the old hinges. They were seated in the centre of the old cellar, their meagre provisions and packs clustered around them in an attempt to block the draft. Tony hadn’t wanted to venture too close to the old rodent filled walls, mostly because they would be much colder, but also because it was too dark to see properly and he didn’t want to be stumbling around with Peter in his arms. 

The Archer didn’t need his excellent eyesight, even in this black as pitch cellar, to locate the singer. The rancid smell of stale sweat, hunger and barely contained fear was rank enough for him to pinpoint the position of the Songbird accurately. Despite the heavy darkness he could have shot an arrow directly into the throat that made the music.

The Widow was as silent and still besides him, her weapons drawn, studying the situation as surely as the Archer. A low moaning became louder and the soft song was interrupted as the Songbird murmured anxiously, voice low and loving “Come on little spider. You’re safe now. Just rest for me baby, you need to rest to get better”

Two then. Two to take to the Lady Commander. He felt more than saw the signal from the Widow.

The arrow flew silent but true and as it hit the wall on the opposite side of the cellar, light exploded with the force of the sun into the solid darkness. Both the Archer and the Widow were used to the effect and knew to close their eyes for the minute that it would take for their experienced vision to adjust for the light.

When they could see again, the tattered little Songbird was crouched in a defensive position, one hand holding a small blade and the other a masonry stone. There were many such stones littering the cellar floor from the decaying walls.

The lad was young, small of stature, dark curls plastered to his forehead and tears wet his pale cheeks from his still closed eyes. His breath came in pants but the expression on his face promised death to those that dared to come near him. 

The Archer could not see the lad’s companion but he had no doubt from the posture that he was crouched in front of a smaller body. Despite the incapacitating light, the Songbird had reacted immediately to protect and thrust his little companion behind him.

“You will come with us” the Widow ordered calmly. The Songbird started and turned to face the direction of her voice. It was obvious he still couldn’t see anything. But he rose slowly from his defensive position on the ground.  
  
“Now why would I do that” he asked with a small smirk, his voice getting more confident the more he spoke “I have been granted sanctuary by the Sorcerer Supreme, I have no intention of offending his generous hospitality.”

The Archer’s lips twitched in appreciation but he straightened his face before the Widow saw him. Cheeky sneaky little brat. The Songbird had made no mention of his partner. No doubt hoping that they hadn’t noticed.

Widow stiffened slightly but her words were still calm. “Do not be foolish boy. You will not like it if we are forced to take you” she paused for effect and then continued silkily “and your little companion”

Fear and utter rage flashed across that pale young face, then was quickly masked. The lad’s grip on his weapons tightened, as the Songbird tilted his head with seeming curiosity.   
He allowed a smirk to shape his lips as he asked with sweetly vicious bite “Do you intend to desecrate hallowed ground? Would you insult the God in his own temple? Are you that stupid and sacrilegious that you do not fear a God’s retribution?” 

The boy’s eyes were still watering slits as if he desperately forced himself to see the effect of his words. But it was unlikely that his sight had recovered yet from the sunburst arrow. Specially designed by the Lord Howard himself as he designed everything for the Queen's Avengers. The man was a genius at his craft.  
  
The Archer rolled his eyes as he saw his red haired companion tilt her head at the insults. It wasn’t often that the Widow allowed reckless words to irritate her enough for her to lose her patience.   
The Songbird would likely have his tongue ripped from his throat if he carried on. Though the lad had a point. Desecrating a temple, even an abandoned one was not something that SHIELD was known for. The safety of a sanctuary seeker was inviolate and the Lady Commander herself would take the head of any of her warriors foolish enough to invoke the wrath of the Gods. Why did the Archer have the awful premonition that the Songbird was going to be trouble?   
  
The Archer was about to intervene when a weak little voice interrupted the lad’s attempt at suicide. “Tony, hurts Tony.” The Songbird dropped to a crouch once again, letting go of the masonry stone but his grip on the knife was unwavering. His free hand reached behind him as he murmured soothingly. “Sleep little sun, you will feel better soon”

Before the Widow could react, the Archer tapped her shoulder and nodded towards the exit. For a brief second exasperation glared out of her eyes but then the expressionless mask descended as she gave an imperceptible nod and moved towards the stone steps. The Archer lent back against the cold wall, never taking his focus off the Songbird.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony maintained a white knuckled grip on the knife yet the fingers stroking through Peter’s sweat soaked hair were achingly gentle despite the painful blindness still affecting his tear-filled eyes.  
His body was reacting by instinct but his brain, his clever, cunning, knowledge seeking brain had been stunned into silence. Disbelief, fear and rage shrouded his mind as effectively as that bright light had taken his sight.  
He didn’t know what had come over him. The words he had uttered were not his. What was he doing provoking someone who sounded that dangerous? He couldn’t even see what she had looked like or the weapons she carried. He still couldn’t see. He didn’t know if she was alone. He didn’t know how many had invaded the cellar. He didn’t know how many he would have to fight off. Try to fight off. Try to protect Peter before they overwhelmed him. The terrified pounding of his heart was too loud in his ears for him to recognise any other sound. But he knew with a bone deep certainty that he and Peter were not alone. He had to assume there was more than just that terrifying female.  
  
Merciful Triad. These dangerous strangers could have killed both of them before he had taken another breath. Could still kill the pair of them at any moment. It was like those insane, intemperate, suicidal words were forced out of him, bypassing his own will. He had truly felt outraged at their presumption in the temple of the Sorcerer Supreme. But the outrage itself had felt strange, as if he was feeling someone else’s anger and it was feeding his own.  
  
His heart began to speed up, and minute tremors shook his body. Shite, shite, shite, those stupid ill-judged words could have gotten Peter killed, still could for all he knew, because he was basically defenseless, and he couldn’t see what was happening. He couldn’t bloody see them. The bright light had forced his sight into utter darkness and he didn’t know when it was going to come back. If it was going to come back.  
  
His chest tightened and chilly sweat dripped down his back. Again he felt that strange gentle feather light tug on the hair at the back of his head but this time it only ramped up his anxiety.  
He didn’t know what the dangerous strangers were going to do next. He had to protect Peter. His panic began to rise. What was wrong with him? He knew better than to open his mouth when dealing with those more powerful than himself. By the Triad he had kept his silence and his head down with the bandits of the Ten Rings. Their lives had depended on it. Images of his little spider dead at his feet, hands out towards his stupid, useless big brother flooded his mind and it was difficult to draw in enough breath to ease the constriction in his chest. The shudders became stronger.

“Aw Songbird no” a strange male voice suddenly uttered from across the room. Tony fell on his ass in fright. The man ignored it and continued “Calm down kid. Don’t be scared now. No-one is going to hurt you or the little one and your sight will recover from the starburst soon. So come on now. Sing for the little one again. It’ll make the two of you feel better” he coaxed gently as if he was talking to a nervous animal.  
  


The Widow stalked back towards the main camp ignoring the irritation that insolent brat had generated. The Archer was right, she would need to bring this to the attention of the Ranger, so that he could take it to the Lady Commander. She didn’t like not completing a mission. It didn’t happen often. It shouldn’t happen at all. She was the Black Widow and she didn’t fail.  
She stopped and drew a breath to calm herself. She knew she was over reacting, it was just a ripple to be absorbed before the mission was completed. There was no failure yet. But the words the kid had used, and the tone of his voice had made the hairs on the back of her neck rise, warning of danger. She didn’t know who or what the kid was but she would find out.  
  
No one other than perhaps the Archer would have noticed her imperceptible twitch as the Soldier suddenly appeared from the deepening shadows besides her but the irritating git smirked at her knowingly. He was the only one who could ever sneak up on her successfully. Besides she had been distracted thinking about the situation. Even though she prided herself on never being distracted. Temper flared for the three seconds she permitted herself, and then she threw a death glare at the Soldier which he totally ignored. Bastard.

Coulson was with the Lady Commander in her tent, of course he was. Tension skittered across the Widow’s shoulders but her face remained impassive as she passed the guards. The Soldier slipped in besides her but stayed to one side. The Lady Commander and the Ranger were standing before the detailed magically enhanced tapestry of the territory. Indistinct miniature figures moved over the transparent outline of the area they were studying. Another invention of Lord Howard to allow them to track the main enemy movements. The Queen’s consort was still trying to find a way to sharpen and deepen the images to identify their main targets like the Betrayer. No one was under any illusion that the Lord would stop until he had achieved his aim. If there was one trait the Royal Triad shared, it was sheer bloody minded determination.  
  
But this prototype device was still an amazing boon which had made planning their battles more effective, even if long range scouts were still required for more accurate information. For a fleeting second the Widow wished with all her soul that she was on one of those scouting missions as they both turned towards her as she entered the tent.  
  
Sharp brown eyes flickered to the silent Soldier; one fine eyebrow was raised slightly before the Lady Commander directed her gaze towards her spy. The Widow dipped her head in respect before she met those intent eyes head on. 

“Has the Archer taken our guest to the food tent Romanov?” the Lady Commander queried almost lightly but Ranger Coulson’s bland smile became more fixed as he stared at his premier scout.

“My Lady” the Widow began and then hesitated. The Widow never hesitated. The Soldier straightened up, his stance moved from semi relaxed to dangerous, and the Ranger lost his bland expression. The Lady Commander tilted her head and blew out a breath. The only movement in the tent was the gentle flutter of a loose brown curl against her smooth cheek.  
  
But before anyone could ask, the Widow continued with brisk efficiency. “The Lad and his little companion remain where we found them. Barton guards them. They need healing but he refused to leave the temple. When the lad spoke about the sanctity of sanctuary, there was a depth and rage to his voice that did not belong to one his age. If they had not left this world centuries ago, I would say he was of the Kamar -Taj.” The Lady Commander’s eyes widened.  
  
The Widow paused for a moment. It was rare show of discomfort and disconcertion. She did not suffer the gods and their nonsense gladly. She raised her chin and continued with forced calm “It would be advisable to be careful with this one. I do not know what he is, but I think he should be monitored. If he fell into Hydra’s hands… she trailed off.

The Ranger exchanged one glance with the Lady Commander and then turned to the Soldier. “Take the Healer to the sanctuary.” Before the Widow could protest, he continued “Banner might not suffer idiot adults gladly, but he is good with young ones. They like him, and he can even treat them there if the boys still refuse to leave that hole in the ground. No doubt the boy is already aware of your aversion to any challenge to your mission objectives” he finished wryly.   
  
The Soldier snorted but raised his eyes skyward when the Widow sent a murderous glare his way.

Bruce frowned as he studied the basement. At least the Widow and the Archer had set up some more light. But Sweet Goddess, the grime and the dust that floated through the air was enough to set off a bout of coughing which could incapacitate one of the huge dray horses. What were those two idiots about leaving the two young ones in this environment?

The older lad was curled protectively around the little one. A knife was held unwaveringly towards anyone who came closer to them. He could see the faint tremor in the kid’s hand but that chin jutted stubbornly out of a too pale and thin face. He noted the traces of fear sweat on the kid’s forehead. Pity replaced the irritation, but he knew better than to show it. The boy would not trust soft words after the brutal introduction to the Queen’s Avengers delivered by the terrible twins. The boy’s eyes were still watering from the starburst, although he was tracking the adults in the room now.

“My name is Banner, Bruce Banner, I am the personal healer to the Queen’s Avengers.” He stated bluntly and the kid frowned at him. “So?” the kid shrugged with a desperate attempt at nonchalance. Bruce sighed gustily and was reassured by the slight twitch of the kid’s lips. Little brat was amused at the irritated reaction. He had courage in that slight frame. Good he could work with that.  
“So my lad, I am here in this unsanitary dilapidated hole in the ground, instead of enjoying a well-earned meal, to deal with a couple of sick kid because the pair of idiots who were sent to get you messed it up.”  
  
Bruce ignored both the low-voiced complaint from the Archer and the Soldier’s open amusement. He continued firmly “Both of you should already have been bathed, fed a nice bowl of broth and tucked up for the night in my healer’s tent.”  
  
Bruce waited, his patience limited, for a response from the kid. He was tired, irritated and he wanted to see to the care and comfort of the stubborn youth and his companion in front of him. He did not like the way the littlest one was breathing. He tilted his head slightly and focused on his hearing. Oh yes there was a rattle in that little chest. His patience snapped.

He walked forward and dropped to a crouch in front of the boy. He noted the way the kid’s pale face whitened even further, and the wavering of the knife. He put his hand gently on the forehead of the unconscious child. The heat in that small body was startling. They could not afford any more time for this ridiculous standoff. Bruce turned his head and felt the knife against his throat. He pushed back the old familiar rage; the boy was just trying to protect the little one. He would not lose his temper for that. He concentrated on slowing his own breathing. He disregarded the muttered “oh shit” from the Archer and the way the Soldier was moving slowly to try to get between him and the kids. Fond familiar exasperation drove out the rage. He almost smirked. Amateurs. As if they could stop the other one if he let him out. Instead he stared straight into the boy’s desperately fearful face.  
  
“What’s your name?” the man asked calmly, and Tony began to feel a bit uncomfortable that he was holding him at knife-point. That could be the only reason that he answered the strange intense man in front of him. “Tony” he responded slowly and “Peter” when the man made a gesture towards his brother. The guy gave him the sweetest smile Tony had seen since they had lost Ana, and while he was catching his breath from that, the guy spoke again “Tony I swear to you that no harm will come to either of you in my care. Peter needs medicine. He is extremely sick. Let me help you”  
“You can’t guarantee that” Tony protested weakly. He was desperate to trust especially after that smile, but he remembered the cold way the scary woman had said they would take Peter.  
  
Tony tried to suppress the hope as he stared at the curly haired man, but he was distracted when he saw a flash of green shine through those brown intense eyes.  
“Oh yes I can lad” The strange guy was utterly confident. Tony’s eyes widened as his brain made the connection. Green. The way the others reacted to the man. “Berserker” he breathed in astonishment “A healer berserker?”  
  
Bruce flinched. Well that was that. No way would the kid trust him now. He would send the Soldier back with medication and food for the pair of them. His thoughts were interrupted as the knife was dropped from his throat and the boy, Tony, simply said “I need help to get up Healer Banner, will you hold Peter for me?”

All three adults stared at him in shock. It was the Soldier who broke the astonished silence. “Aren’t you afraid of him Doll?”  
  
Tony threw him a wide grin, relief made him giddy. “Why would I be afraid of him? He just promised we would be safe. Berserkers always keep their word. In either form. It is part of their inherent magic. Peter and I have a protector who will tear apart anyone who hurts us.” His words trailed off until it seemed like he was talking just to himself. “It is the first time we have both been safe for a very long time.”

As Tony began to struggle to his feet, he didn’t notice the way Banner’s eyes turned completely green, the Soldier flexed his sword arm as he drew a deep breath, or the narrowing of the Archer’s eyes and lips.


	5. Chapter 5

The clang of iron rhythmically striking iron, the vicious hiss of water turning to steam from the cooling buckets, the trundle of the little wagons carrying coal and other necessities were an oddly soothing cacophony in the steamy darkness which was only broken by the flickering light of various fires in the palace’s massive forge.

Jarvis looked around the busy noisy workshop and smiled. Except perhaps in the arms and bed of his triad, Jarvis couldn’t imagine a place where Lord Howard Stark, First Consort and Weapons Master, and in truth a born War Mage, would be happier or truer to his intense creative nature. He would bet one of Ana's best cup of tea that not even the Lord himself really understood his War Mage abilities so that part of his nature had never been acknowledged or trained properly. The War Mage Clan had disappeared at the same time as the Priests of the Kamar – Taj. Not surprising when both groups swore their oaths of service to the Sorcerer Supreme. And the goateed one had been making his plans for centuries.  
For a moment Jarvis shook his head ruefully. But if all were to go well, then perhaps that too could be rectified.

He had not been noticed when he entered the forge as he had not been noticed when he had taken passage on that ridiculous pirate’s vessel, or when he entered the great city itself. Truth be told if Jarvis did not want to be seen, then he went unseen. 

He made himself comfortable in an empty but shadowed corner and waited for the Lord and his people to come to a natural break.

He took to his time to really study Howard and saw the changes the hard years had wrought. There was silver in that vibrant brown hair, and he had cut away the long curls that his ladies used to love to clench in their greedy loving hands. Now instead of that pretty playful youthful lover of life, there was a stern master tactician and warrior. His beard had the same streaks of silver and the soft brown eyes had been tempered into steel as hard as that made in his own forges by the sights he had seen, the losses he had endured and the decisions he had made.  
  
The Lord was of average height but powerfully built. Years of swinging forge hammers, fighting with swords, building, creating, refining, had toughened his physique until the Lord could hold his own in a fight with weapons or without.  
It would be a foolish enemy who thought himself safe caught between the Lord’s powerful bare hands. Though Lord Howard’s preferred weapon of choice and greatest advantage was his mind.  
The man was spectacular, a wonder in his own right and he knew it. It was that very spectacular and curious mind that Jarvis was banking on now.  
  
Jarvis could have bypassed the Lord and gone directly to the Queen or the Lady Commander. But they would have acted first then questioned later when all was lost.  
  
A minor concern in the scheme of things but both his darlings, May and Ana, were very fond of this particular head. They would not be happy with him if it parted ways with his body due to intemperate anger. And his Consorts could make their displeasure felt for centuries. 

Jarvis was banking on the fact that Howard Stark would want to understand first, before he swung an axe at his head, so he was the best option of the Royal Triad. 

That was not to say that Howard wouldn’t swing one of those enormous forge hammers at his head to crush him like a bug once he heard what Jarvis had to tell him.

Jarvis smiled with amusement, even knowing what was at stake, knowing the importance of the right path, this was still going to be fun. He hadn’t pitted himself against anyone of Lord Howard’s calibre in a very long time. He wasn’t sure that there was anyone in the worlds yet of Lord Howard’s calibre. The important word being yet. It would be a different matter once this was resolved so for now he refused to think of his little ones. May was watching over them.  
  
Suddenly impatient, he took a deep breath, the scent of the heated iron, silver and vibranium a heavy taste on his tongue and he began to rise from his hiding place.  
  
Then two uniformed palace guards rushed into the workshop, the shorter one reaching up to ring the heavy warning bell. Jarvis sighed gently and stretched himself. It was time then. The high-pitched true chime cut its way through the whole workshop, and it’s denizens raised their heads and slowed their tools and hands in acknowledgement.

Movement stopped in the Forge, though it could never be truly silent, until Lord Howard came striding towards the guards, wiping his hands on a clean cloth he flung to the side. His leather harness glistening from the sweat on his body, and there were smudges of ash on his face.

The two soldiers flung an arm across their chests in salute and dipped their heads, the larger one raised his head first and met the Lord’s eyes. Lord Howard addressed him impatiently.

“Well Happy what’s the problem? I am in the middle of something.” Happy the guard gave him an unimpressed look.

“You are always in the middle of something my Lord” he grumbled.  
  
Cabe, the shorter guard gaped up at her companion in shock and then hastily found something else to stare at that meant she wouldn’t have to meet the Lord’s eyes.

She missed the swift grin that lit up Howard’s dirty face, but she did hear the snort of unwilling laughter. “Hogan you forget yourself” he rebuked with no heat and just shook his head as the big man grinned unrepentantly back at him. Then the amusement dropped from Hogan’s face and he moved almost instinctively into a boxing stance as if waiting to punch someone or something. Howard’s sharp eyes took in Cabe’s stiffened demeanour as well.  
  
So whatever news his two personal guards had come to tell him, the pair of them were not happy. 

“Fury One-Eye has docked his ship at the harbour my Lord” Cabe’s soft voice preempted Happy, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was fixated on Howard as if ready to stop him from doing something foolish. Howard frowned at him as he raised his eyebrows in query, but he responded calmly enough to Cabe.

“I suppose that leather clad, arrogant old pirate wants work done on his ship the "Helicarrier" again” Howard shook his head “Well he can damn well wait. I have other priorities now.”

Jarvis stepped out of the darkness, the hood of his dark cape still concealing his face. “You might want to rethink that Howie old son” he mocked gently.

Happy had his sword out and lunging towards him in seconds but he was still behind Lord Howard who had drawn the second guard’s sword from her scabbard in one fluid movement and already had it at the intruder’s throat.

“Getting slow in your old age Howie” Jarvis taunted in amusement as he felt the press of the weapon against his windpipe. His grey eyes laughed straight into hard challenging brown, daring the Weapon master to use the short sword, as he raised his empty hands and threw back the hood.

The weapon dropped. “Eddie?” For a second Lord Howard’s voice was shocked disbelief. Jarvis’s grin got wider and then he was slammed backwards into the hard stone walls with one single powerful punch.

As he slid into unconsciousness, he heard Howard growl, “Lock that fucking traitor up before I gut him here and now”. Jarvis wondered if he might have misjudged the level of temper from his old friend. Never mind, he knew Howard’s curiosity would kick in at some point, and then Jarvis allowed the darkness to take him.

Howard watched as Jarvis succumbed to his punch. Anger boiled in his blood as fiercely as the flames that fanned his forges. The absolute bastard had the unmitigated gall not to be dead and to stroll into his workshops as if he owned them. His hand twitched with the longing to thrust the sword true, but his need to know what the hell was going on was stronger, so he let Cabe and Hogan surround the prone figure.  
  
Cabe was quick and efficient in her movements to search the intruder, it wouldn’t pay to lock him up if he still had weapons on him. She disregarded the elaborately carved walking staff. They would leave it in the Forge and one of the workers could feed it to the forge flames.

From her Lord’s reaction, the stranger was unlikely to need a walking staff ever again. She would pump Happy for more information as they dragged off the prisoner. Then her hand found a small pouch hanging from the man’s belt. She pulled it off and threw it to Hogan, continuing her search and only finding one skinning knife.

Happy caught the pouch mid-air, slowly opening it with the intention of peering inside as long as there were no nasty surprises from just opening it. They were in the Weapons Master’s territory which had been warded by the Court’s magic users so strongly against the intent to do evil that anything malicious inside the pouch would be made inactive.

Now that was interesting. Lord Howard must have remembered the wards when he pulled his deadly thrust. So, Lord Howard knew that Edwin Jarvis did not come to the forge with deliberate malicious intent. But still Happy had not been Howard’s personal guard for nearly twenty years without learning about caution, he damned well was not sticking his fingers into strange pouches. The Gods alone knew what could be in there.  
  
Once he was satisfied nothing was going to bite, stab, spit or launch itself at him from the little brown pouch, he tilted it towards the nearest floating light, which obligingly drifted a little closer. He peeped inside and his heart stopped. Happy could feel it actually stop in his chest. He didn’t realize that he was growling with incoherent rage and then pain rushed through that same dead heart until the only thing he could do to relieve it was to swing round and aim a kick that would crack that bastard Jarvis’s ribs. But the immensely strong hand on his arm gripped him tight and pulled him away effortlessly. Hogan stood still to catch his breath and reign in his rage.

“Show me Happy” His Lord’s voice was deep and cold. Hogan looked at Lord Stark with open despair.

“No Howard, you don’t want to see this” he almost whispered. Happy didn’t often refer to him by his given name. They had grown up together on the Stark estate and only Hogan would be forgiven that presumption these days. Lord Stark had long since lost any lingering softness unless it came to his Queen and Lady Peggy.

Howard held out his hand, he could see Hogan debating refusing him and suddenly his own heart was filled with fearful anticipation. He stared the man down until Happy nodded once and emptied the pouch into the outstretched hand. By the flickering light of the flames and the floating mage lights, Howard Stark stared down at the medallion in his palm. The way it reacted to his touch; the radiant blue glow proclaimed its provenance. It was the Arc Medallion worn only by the heir to the throne of Cerrara.

There was a fine trembling in his hand as he held it, the blue stone still as bright as the last time he had seen it around Antonio’s small neck. But his voice was utterly calm and untroubled as he ordered

“Take him to the cells quietly. Do not let anyone see his face. Keep him alive and unharmed. He speaks to no-one. Select four other elite guards that you trust with the Queens’s life and do not have wagging tongues to guard him on rotation with you and Cabe. I am convening the Royal Triad.”  
  
He took the pouch from Hogan’s slack hand and gently slid the heir’s medallion into it. He turned to walk away but stopped to speak in a low voice for Hogan’s ears alone. He repeated himself  
“Keep him alive Happy. This may be our only chance to find out what really happened to…” he didn’t finish the sentence, but Hogan didn’t need him to.  
  
Howard carried on walking to the integral hot springs and bathing room. He needed to be presentable to demand audience with his Queen.

Hogan ignored the stare from Cabe. Bethany would have to wait for her curiosity to be satisfied until this evil traitor was locked up, right and tight, and safe from any other Hydra scum. Happy had no doubt Jarvis was intending to con the Royal Triad into or out of something but he would be lucky to survive the first meeting with them.

If the Queen didn’t use her knives on him, the Lady Commander was likely to take the bastard’s head. To be fair, Happy would pay good money to watch that. But Howard wanted answers and he wasn’t going to let his partners do anything until he had drained Jarvis dry of every piece of knowledge about the medallion. A grim vindictive smile crossed Hogan’s pleasant face. “It sucks to be you right now Jarvis and believe me it’s only going to get worse. If there is anything left when the Royal Triad have finished with you, then I am next in line.”

Cabe got back to her feet, brushing off the dust from her leather britches. She looked at the head of Palace Security for instructions. “Lang, Van Dyne, Danvers and Hill” he ordered. Cabe looked at him in surprise. “They aren’t the elite guard Happy; they are the Queen’s Avengers who were injured and convalescing before returning to duty.” Hogan smiled grimly at his deputy. “Even injured those ones will still run rings round any of us. Lord Stark wants this one incommunicado and out of any prying eyes. They will be perfect for the duty.”

Hogan knelt and heft the limp body over his shoulder. Cabe pulled the cape over the body and the hood over his face. “I’ll take him through the herb gardens towards the Cells, you get those bloody Avengers to the third level. Tell ‘em its Lord Starks orders if they give you any grief. Now off with you.”

He watched the young guard take to her heels and fly out the door.

“By the holy Triad, Jarvis you rogue when did you get so heavy. You were always a long streak of skinny” Hogan grumbled as he moved to the back entrance of the Forge. It was going to be a longer walk going through the herb gardens and past the manure pits, but it would ensure that they weren’t seen. If any of the gardeners were out, they would just assume that one of his guards has taken too much to drink and he was taking them back to the barracks before making them suffer for their stupidity for a week.  
  
Over his shoulder, Jarvis smirked as he allowed his arms to dangle down Happy’s back, the plan was working. Howard was calling the Triad together. It would not be long now before an old wrong would be made right. It was past time this was dealt with. But really did Howie have to punch him so hard!  
  
“Wanderer!” whispered through his mind, the scolding tone was accompanied by a familiar combination of long-suffering sighs and outright laughter. 

**Author's Note:**

> Canon what canon? More tags will appear after each chapter. Ratings may change.  
> Inspired by the lullaby "Arrorró mi niño". So beautiful. 
> 
> I have got most of the next chapter written for Call of Duty but my brain/muse/ fingers wanted to do this. Not arguing.
> 
> Stay safe lovelies.


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